


what more can I say?

by quantumoddity



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, Other, Rita & Juno Steel are Best Friends, Rita Appreciation (Penumbra Podcast), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, just some good old gay tenderness, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: There is a minor mystery for Juno to solve- why is Rita acting so strangely?
Relationships: Peter Nureyev & Rita, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel
Comments: 26
Kudos: 205





	what more can I say?

Juno had known Rita for a very long time, he knew her better than just about anyone. So, quite some time ago, he had stopped trying to understand a lot of her decisions. There were some things that could only be chalked up as pure Rita-isms. 

Something he hadn’t realised until recently, or at least hadn’t allowed himself to realise, was that following her crazy straw streams of non-logic would usually lead to a lot more fun than scowling or snapping at her would. He still felt a hot pinching sensation in the pit of his stomach when he thought about things he’d said to her in the past. 

So for that and other reasons, when she came to him after their weekly family dinner, dragged his plate out from under his fork and told him they were gonna go to his room and get him dressed up nice, he didn’t immediately tell her to go to hell. 

Instead he gestured with his fork at the plate, still with a good few mouthfuls of the moussaka he’d spent all afternoon making, and said, “I’m not done with that…”

“You can eat later, Mistah Steel,” Rita said immediately, stepping on the end of his sentence like he’d barely even spoken, “C’mon, let’s go to your room, let’s hang out! Like the old days, right?”

Juno narrowed his eye, not bothering to point out that they hadn’t hung out really in the old days, he’d been a sour asshole of a cliff face and she had been an undeservingly relentless tide of friendship crashing against him. 

“Why exactly would I go get dressed up?” he put audible air quotes around the phrase, “We’re floating in the middle of deep space and will remain that way for the next three weeks.” 

Rita’s eyes darted left and right before her grin increased another factor of ten, “I just think it’ll be fun! Who needs a reason, right?” 

“Certainly not you…” Juno admitted, looking around at the kitchen. 

Was it him or had the table cleared eerily quickly? Normally the crew lazed around, enjoying knowing their work for the day was done and the evening was entirely their own. He was used to Buddy lighting up the one cigarette she allowed herself per day, filling the air with a rich smell like burning flowers; he was used to Jet closing his eyes, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, no one ever quite sure if he was asleep. He was used to doing the dishes with Rita, flicking bubbles at each other until Buddy calmly and fondly told them to quit before they turned the floor of her kitchen into a swamp. He was used to his boyfriend pulling him to rest against his shoulder and wrapping curls of his hair around his fingers, gradually getting more intimate and caring less about who was watching until Vespa would pretend to retch and tell them to get a room. 

But it seemed like everyone had somewhere to be tonight, including his boyfriend. Nureyev was nowhere to be seen, which was passing strange. Juno had suggested they watch a movie together about now and he had seemed to agree but now he’d disappeared. Not completely unusual for Nureyev, obviously, but Juno somehow felt a little stood up, like a date left lingering at the bar. 

“Fine, fine,” Juno sighed, “Whatever. Still don’t see what’s wrong with what I’m wearing…”

Rita looked down at his homemade tie dye shirt, the pyjama pants with the slack elastic, bright purple and patterned in cartoon bats that he’d been wearing since one not even memorable Halloween decades ago, the bed socks that didn’t match. She didn’t say anything which, for Rita, spoke volumes. 

Juno pushed back his chair, rolling his eyes and walking towards his room. Behind him, Rita squealed and clapped her hands in delight before hurrying after him. 

Nureyev wasn’t in there either, as Juno had been hoping. Not that they ever really hung out in his room, given that it was a tip and all the disorganisation gave Nureyev a headache. Juno thought that was kind of hypocritical, he’d seen the inside of that man’s pockets. 

But he did have to admit, it was looking more and more like a teenager’s room as the days went by. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept in here since he and Nureyev had gotten back together and now basically used it to store all the things he didn’t regularly need. The important stuff like his everyday clothes, his current book and his guitar were in Nureyev’s much tidier bunk. This was where he threw things he knew he wouldn’t need to put his hands on at a moment’s notice. 

Like his wardrobe of nice clothes and fancy dresses, which Rita currently had the whole upper half of her body sunk into like she was going to end up face first in Narnia, spitting out snow. 

“You got a lot of real cute outfits in here, Boss…” she called back, her voice muffled by netting and satin. 

“Not your boss,” Juno yawned, flopping back onto the bed, sending a sheaf of files on jobs completed months ago tumbling onto the floor, “They’re mostly stuff for heists and the one date night a month me and Ransom get when we’re not stuck in the outer space ass crack of the middle of nowhere.” 

“Nothing from the old days?” Rita hummed, reappearing briefly with a necklace wrapped around one of her space buns before plunging back in.

“You think anything from then is still gonna fit over my thighs?” Juno arched an incredulous eyebrow, “Nah, that all got left behind when we split from Mars. Besides...I dunno, I guess it wasn’t really my style anymore.”

Rita reappeared, looking like some kind of burrowing animal who’d made her nest in fabrics, “Oh I know, Mistah Steel. Cos you were kinda depressed back then, huh?”

Juno had to laugh wryly, “Yeah, I guess so. Or at least...I dunno. I was different, that’s for sure.”

Rita grinned and disappeared back into the wardrobe, “Now you got Misah Ransom. And you’re in love and happy.”

Juno felt himself blush and he suddenly became very interested in his fingernails, “I mean...I guess…”

“How about this one?” Rita burst out, holding a dress that was floor length and blue, glittering gently in the light. 

Juno remembered it as soon as he saw it, it had been from a job at a Venusian casino. He’d spent the whole night with one hand idly stroking the skirts as they’d lain across his lap, he’d enjoyed the feel of it that much. As soon as he’d been presented with it, he’d thought of it as a slice of the night sky taken down and woven into a garment. He’d felt a little like a constellation come to life, he’d felt actually kind of pretty.

And, after they were back on the ship, Nureyev had disappeared under those skirts and made him feel beautiful. 

Juno shook his head, “I still don’t see why we’re doing this but sure. That one works. There’s shoes to go with it somewhere in there.”

Rita found the shoes and a necklace and earring set that hadn’t been part of the original ensemble but matched very well. They were gold and gossamer thin, like the product of some jewelled spider, and they were studded part way along by miniscule stars. They looped and hung subtly, like Nureyev’s own earrings that he’d always admired. 

“Aren’t you getting dressed up?” he tilted his head to fix the earring on better, looking in the small wall mirror that had come with the room, “I thought we were hanging out? I’m gonna feel like an ass looking like this on my own.”

He could see her reflection in the background of the mirror, she was checking her comms. Just as she’d done six times since they came in. 

“Oh you won’t be the only one, Boss,” she said quickly, “I’ll get my gladrags on in a little bit.” 

“Not your boss,” Juno sighed, “And fine, whatever. Though this is feeling more like a prank by the second.

“Not a prank,” Rita replied primly, “Just think it’ll make you feel nice. Does a lady good to beautify themselves every so often, y’know?”

Juno shared an exasperated look with his mirror self but he pulled out his old make up bag all the same. It was a mess, smeared on the inside with smudges of colour like a parrot had exploded inside it, and it’s chaos reminded him why he used Nureyev’s much more extensive supply instead. 

Still, it was sort of fun, picking out shades that looked nice, playing with colour and shape. Nureyev always applied his make up too, doing it with one eye wasn’t impossible but it was harder. And he loved having his boyfriend so close, being the sole focus of every scrap of his attention. It made him squirm in a good way and often led to things that meant they had to redo the make up anyway. 

But there was something fun about doing it himself too. It reminded him of being a teenager, one of the few fragments of that age that made him feel good, trying out the lipstick and mascara he’d shoplifted and suddenly feeling happy with his face in a way he never had, eventually finding words that could give him the same feeling. It didn’t have to look good, it didn’t have to be perfect, it never had. It made him smile all the same. 

“That’s looking real pretty, Mistah Steel,” Rita popped up again, beaming like a proud older sister seeing her brother off to prom. 

“It’s lopsided,” Juno grunted, focused on his eyeliner, “...but thanks.”

“You’re always looking real pretty,” Rita continued, her voice softening, “Does me good to see a smile on your face every day, Mistah Steel, it really does. You’ve always deserved someone like him, you know, someone who makes you smile and treats you right. I’m glad you found him and you worked out all the sticky bits and now you kiss and stuff…”

Juno turned to give her a look, “What’s with the misty eyes, Rita?”

“No reason!” she jumped, like she’d realised she was sliding down into something and busied herself looking at her comms again, her face a little tense like she was concentrating.

Juno watched her for a long minute, feeling the detective part of his brain stir. She was up to something, he could have seen that with his one eye closed. It was what she was up to exactly that he needed to find out. 

“Say!” she bounced up to his side, taking his arm, “Why don’t we go up on the observation deck? Take a little walk? Maybe we can...oh! That’s it, we can take some pictures! Nice pretty pictures!” 

Juno was too intrigued to argue, wanting to see where this was all going, “Why the hell not, huh? Me looking like a debutante and you still in your pyjamas. Why the hell not…”

Rita did blush, her eyes sliding down to the floor. But then she seemed to gather herself, the way he’d seen her do on so many late nights at the HCPD, so many cases that had seemed impossible, so many things he hadn’t thought they’d survive.

“Well what are we waiting for?” she grinned, tugging him up onto the kitten heels she’d found, “Let’s go see some stars!”

Again, the Carte Blanche seemed oddly silent. Juno could never forget that he lived with five other people, there would always be someone playing music or voices echoing down the halls as someone had a conversation. Jet hammering away or cursing as solder dripped on his fingers, Rita shrieking at some jumpscare in her show accompanied by the patter of popcorn hitting her bed, Buddy singing to herself as she brushed her hair out before bed, Vespa working late in the infirmary, knives and scalpels clattering out a sharp edged song as she sorted through them.

And Nureyev, always his Nureyev, humming to himself as he brushed out his hair, singing in the shower, stealing Juno’s book and laughing at the same bits he’d laughed at, talking away as he sewed. His voice, always part of Juno’s life, the constant reminder that he was there and close and Juno’s. 

But it was like he and Rita were the only ones on the ship, in the universe even. There was only the click of his own heels and the gentle jangle of his jewellery, along with Rita’s heavy breathing which seemed to be getting more and more as they went along. 

She was keeping something from him. Not something she did often but he could see she was practically bursting at the seams, about to explode in a fountain of confetti and probably an ear splitting scream. He was suppressing the urge to take a step back from her, just in case. 

The Carte Blanche’s observation deck was right at the top, in the outermost of the ship’s bulged exterior. It required the climbing of a lot of stairs and a ladder, worming through the ship’s tightest spots, not exactly easy in heels and a long, swishing skirt. Harder even, seeing as Rita insisted on never letting go of his hand as she led him for some reason, her fingers warm in his own and trembling with the excitement she was trying to pretend wasn’t there. 

If asked later, Juno would say it was because he hadn’t actually been a detective in years, it was no wonder his skills were a little rusty. That would be his excuse for why he didn’t realise what was happening until they reached the bottom of the last ladder and he heard the music drifting down. 

It took him a moment to place it but once he did, he was there so completely it was like he’d slipped and ended up in another time. He was in a ballroom with towering ceilings and walls lined with impossibly expensive treasures. His dress wasn’t blue but gold and his heels were uncomfortably tall and Nureyev was beside him, slowly opening up to him over the course of an evening, ready to hear what he was saying. It wasn’t the high energy song they’d danced to, but the quiet, gentle song that had been playing as they’d ran as fast as they could back out into the night, laughter rising in their chest like champagne bubbles, a piece of a legend hidden under Juno’s skirts and his fingers wound through Nureyev’s. 

Back in the moment, realigned in the here and now, Juno froze, a soft gasp escaping him. 

Rita stopped, one of her feet on the rung of the ladder, turning back to him and seeing in a second what he’d realised. 

“Oh no,” she moaned, her face falling into despair, “I told Mistah Ransom I’d keep it secret, I’m sorry, I knew I’d ruin it…’

Juno shook his head, squeezing her hand, “No, you’ve not ruined anything, Rita. He won’t be mad and neither am I.” 

Rita looked at him doubtfully from behind her rhinestone encrusted glasses. He remembered the slow day they’d sat cross legged on his dusty office carpet and glued all of those little things on there. He’d found the bastards in the pockets of his coat for months afterwards. 

“Are you sure, Boss? Cos you look kinda...pale? Like that ashy, not so good colour...”

Juno chuckled roughly, “It’s just a big deal, y’know? Everything kind of changes from this point. And I’m not your boss.” 

Rita scuffed the toe of her sandal against the floor, “Maybe not as much as you think though? You’ll still have your thief and we’ll still live on this awesome ship like super cool space pirates. You’ll just get to call him something different!”

Juno considered that, feeling like he wanted to grin so hard his jaw would ache, his heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted out, “I do…” 

“And...well,” Rita flashed her ten kilowatt smile, “If you wanna go steal Mistah Jet’s car and go drive off to Pluto together? We can do that right now. I got your back, Mistah Steel.” 

Juno cackled, “Thanks, Rita. Maybe one day but for now...I think I’m gonna go in there.”

Rita nodded, making her space buns bounce, kissing his cheek lightly before starting back down the way they had come, “Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll talk to ya later, Boss.”

_ “I’m not your boss!”  _ Juno called after her, only realising when their voices were echoing together off the chrome walls that she’d mimicked him perfectly. 

Juno chuckled to himself and faced the last ladder again, taking a deep breath. Another fragment of another time tried to press in, wanting to overlay itself across this moment, wanting to drag his thoughts in another direction. But Juno swept it away firmly. He would enjoy this. He would look back on this and feel nothing but joy. 

Still smiling, he climbed, stepping up into the music. 

Nureyev always paced when he was nervous. He was just so rarely nervous that many people didn’t notice. 

But he was pacing now, rapidly walking the length of the observation deck, checking his comms over and over, watching the little digital numbers tick higher and higher. 

Juno was supposed to be here two minutes and twenty seconds ago. That was what he had agreed with Rita, having to sit her down, hold her head and speak very slowly to make sure she was actually listening. It was all as meticulously planned as any heist the Aurinko crime family had ever pulled off, maybe even more so because this was  _ his  _ plan. He’d constructed this, down to the second, and he’d selected his partner carefully. He had a lot of faith in the little hacker, at least in how much she wanted Juno to be happy. He’d laid it all out for her at a table in the nicest restaurant he could find during their last stop planetside, he’d run her through every step and sub-step, every contingency plan. After she’d cried happy tears into her wine for an hour. 

But now, right at the most important moment, it was falling apart. He was in position, with the music playing and the candles flickering like some of the stars outside had come loose and settled on every available surface. He was dressed impeccably, in the outfit it had taken him two weeks to decide on. It was part way between Duke Rose and Rex Glass, sleek and sophisticated but softer than he would dress for a job. He didn’t want armour for this, he wanted to be vulnerable. He wanted to wear things that would remind Juno of everywhere they’d been and every step that had brought them here. He even had sunglasses perched on his head as something of a joke. 

He was as ready as he was ever going to be, sweating under his silk and mouth dry as a bone behind his perfectly lipsticked smile. But he had no Juno. 

A million rationally unlikely but impossible to shake off theories vied for his attention. Nureyev knew they’d talked about this at length, he knew Juno’s past, he knew how he’d been hurt. He had been completely ready to accept that this was never something he’d want. 

But he had also believed him when he’d taken his hands, a hundred nights ago now, and said this was okay. That one day, at some shining point in their future, Nureyev could ask and he would answer. 

Nureyev knew that. He told himself that over and over but the possibility that Juno might have bolted was lurking in the back of his mind now, a shadow on a wall that kept catching on the corner of his eye. Maybe he’d been wrong this whole time, maybe he’d heard only what he wanted to hear. Maybe he’d dreamed the whole damn thing and was about to wake up alone in a hotel room in Hyperion City. 

Four minutes now. Nureyev pressed his fingertips to his temples and willed himself to calm down. There was no time to spiral, he had to keep his feet on the ground. Losing his head had never done him any good, only telling himself he was in control until he willed it so had ever worked. If he told himself all was well then it would be, even if Juno never turned up, if he never turned up…

“Nureyev?”

His voice was soft but Nureyev would have picked it out from thousands. His heart was in his throat as he turned, a soft breath leaving him as he saw the lady life had rewarded him with, in spite of everything he’d done. 

Juno looked beautiful, wearing his blue, star studded dress, a number Nureyev wasn’t likely to forget after how the night had ended the last time he’d worn it. His face was done up but it was everything underneath that made Nureyev stop, the scars and the badly healed breaks and the lines. Everything that reminded him it wasn’t a goddess he was looking at, it was something so much better. A human person, broken and tired as he was, who by some miracle loved him as much as he loved them. 

You couldn’t spend the rest of your life with a goddess, after all. 

It only took a second before Nureyev realised what that coy, lopsided smile meant. He knew. And a heartbeat later they were both laughing.

“I’m sorry,” Juno managed to get out in between his wheezing laughs, bracing on his knees, “I’m so sorry, go ahead, pretend this didn’t happen. Do your thing.”

Nureyev had his arms wrapped around himself, like he needed to physically hold it together, giggling madly, “Nothing ever goes right for us, does it?”

“No,” Juno admitted, finally straightening and wiping at his eye, “But I like that. We’re consistent if nothing else. But seriously, pretend I’m not a complete idiot, go ahead.”

“You’re not,” Nureyev smiled crookedly, taking a deep breath and brushing down the front of his suit, though it was as spotless as ever, clearing his throat before asking, “May I have this dance, Mr Steel?”

Juno smiled bright as a sun and held out his hand, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Nureyev had been trained in every kind of formal dance found on any solar planet, he knew every step, every combination, and he could move through them with grace and poise, every limb extending perfectly like he was underwater. Juno clearly had a scant fraction of that knowledge but what made the difference was he danced like he enjoyed it. He didn’t dance to perform, he didn’t dance for other people’s eyes. Clearly, he danced because it made him smile. And the smile he gave Nureyev as they danced across the observation deck, silhouetted before a galaxy, was beautiful enough to hurt. 

It felt for a moment like they were dancing through the last decade. As the pink light from the cluster of gas and stars shifted, Juno’s face changed and Nureyev saw all the versions of his love that he’d known. He saw a scared and bitter detective who’d wanted him to save him but wouldn’t let it happen. He saw the man who’d fully intended to die for him. He saw the man who had held him and promised him his heart, only to snatch it away at the last moment so he wouldn’t see how cracked and scarred it was. He saw the man who’d bared everything to him after knocking on his door, with mascara smudges in the corner of his eyes, and made Nureyev want to stay for the first time in his life. 

Nureyev couldn’t bear it any more. He stopped, dipping Juno carefully in his arms, pressing a feather light kiss to his lips so he didn’t overbalance them. Juno was laughing again as he righted them, knowing what was coming, tears already beading on his eyelashes. 

Smiling softly, the thief sank to one knee and produced the ring he definitely hadn’t stolen, seemingly from thin air but actually from his pocket. 

“Juno Steel,” he murmured, not seeing the point of flowery language, not right now, “I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in the whole Universe. Will you marry me?”

It was an old ring, something he’d picked up at an antique shop the last time they had been on Earth, the only planet old enough to actually have antiques. It was simple, winding silver arms holding a small diamond, nondescript so he would never have to take it off no matter what job they were on. It had a deep sense of history to it, a piece of living proof that everything difficult in their lives, everything that had hurt them, couldn’t take away the future they had in front of them. Things kept moving forward, they always had. 

Juno gave a little sob when he saw it, the kind that was kind of a laugh too. He held out his hand, nodding hard, “Yes. Yes, Peter Nureyev, I will marry you.”

Before the ring was even fully on his finger, he was crashing down onto his knees to kiss him, throwing his arms around Nureyev’s shoulders. They were laughing again because how could either of them have imagined it would end like this? 

“I love you,” Juno gasped, kissing him hard in between bright bursts of laughter, “I love you, I love you, god damnit, I love you…”

“Fool,” Nureyev breathed, smiling, tears running down his face and not caring, “And I love you too.”

They wouldn’t be able to do it officially of course, Nureyev didn’t really exist and they were all living outside of the law and very much wanted by several different authorities. It would be something more performative, Buddy as their captain performing the rights in something of a space age matelotage, just their little family to witness it. But it would mean everything to them. 

And Juno knew exactly who his maid of honour was going to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment if you liked this, it means the world to me. Also feel free to come visit my Tumblr, @mollymauk-teafleak for headcanons and such!


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